Adrian's POV
Sleep had not come easily. When it did, it was fractured, filled with shadows of conversations he wished he'd had and the echo of Amara's voice asking him, gently but insistently, "You don't have to carry it alone."
Adrian lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling of his dorm, a quiet war raging inside him. He hadn't meant to push her away. If anything, he'd wanted the opposite ....wanted to hold on to the comfort her presence offered, to lean into the warmth of her steady gaze.
But every instinct screamed at him to keep his distance.
He'd been raised in a world where closeness was dangerous, where vulnerability was a weakness that others exploited. His father had made sure of that....drilling into him that emotions clouded judgment, that reliance on anyone else meant eventual disappointment.
And yet… when Amara had looked at him in that hospital corridor, her eyes searching, her voice soft but resolute, something inside him had cracked. For a brief moment, he'd wanted to tell her everything. The family he came from. The empire his father controlled. The expectations weighing on his shoulders. The suffocating feeling of being trapped in a life designed for him, not by him.
He'd wanted to tell her that sometimes, despite all the walls he built, he was tired of carrying it alone.
But fear had won. Fear that if she knew the truth, she'd see him differently...not as the quiet, dependable classmate she was starting to trust, but as another spoiled heir to a legacy she could never understand.
So he had smiled, deflected, and told her she worried too much.
And then spent the rest of the night hating himself for it.
Morning dragged on with mechanical routine. Coffee. Shower. A half-hearted attempt at reviewing notes for class. None of it settled the unease clawing at him.
By the time he arrived at the lecture hall, his exhaustion had morphed into a quiet edge of tension. The professor's words blurred into background noise, his pen moving automatically across the page while his mind replayed the image of Amara sitting by Emily's bedside, her expression tight with concern, her patience unwavering.
He admired her more than he wanted to admit. She was strong in ways that weren't obvious at first glance. Not flashy or loud, but steady. Brave. She faced storms with trembling hands yet refused to back down.
And she was dangerous...for him.
Because every time she smiled, every time she tilted her head and met his gaze with that stubborn curiosity, he felt his walls weaken.
"Finally!" Luke's voice broke into his thoughts as class ended. "Feels like that lecture would never end."
Damian stretched, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, but it's a good day. Emily's finally getting discharged. We should celebrate."
Amara looked up at Emily, who sat a few rows ahead, her arm still in a sling but her energy returning. "That's a great idea," she said warmly.
Luke grinned. "How about lunch? My treat. We'll go somewhere nice."
Emily nodded, smiling, clearly touched. "That sounds perfect."
Adrian stiffened. The idea of sitting at a table with all of them, pretending he wasn't drowning in his own guilt, pretending he didn't notice the way Amara's eyes lingered on him....it felt unbearable.
"I'll pass," he said quickly, shoving his notebook into his bag.
Luke frowned. "Come on, man. It won't kill you to celebrate for once."
Damian added, "You've been brooding all week. A little fun might help."
Adrian shook his head, already standing. "Not today."
It was then, against his better judgment, that his eyes flickered to Amara. Just for a second. She was watching him, her brows drawn together in confusion, maybe even hurt.
He forced himself to look away, the guilt twisting deeper.
"Suit yourself," Luke muttered.
Adrian mumbled a vague goodbye, his tone clipped, and headed for the exit before anyone else could press him further. The sound of their voices faded behind him as he pushed through the door into the quieter hallway.
His footsteps echoed against the linoleum, each one heavy with the weight of his own contradictions. He was doing the right thing, he told himself. Distance was safer. For her. For him.
So why did it feel like he was suffocating?
The cool air outside brushed against his face as he stepped into the courtyard, students spilling around him in clusters of laughter and chatter. He kept his head down, moving quickly, trying to outpace the gnawing voice in his chest.
But then....
"Adrian!"
The sound of her voice froze him mid-step. He turned, and there she was, weaving through the crowd, her bag slung over her shoulder, determination etched into her features.
Amara.
His pulse quickened.
He hadn't expected her to follow.
And now, as she closed the distance between them, he realized he wasn't sure if he wanted to run… or finally stop running.